


insert generic and cliche love story

by astrangetypeofchemistry



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Flower Shop/Tattoo Parlor AU, Galaxy Girls in the background if you squint, M/M, Tree Bros, convan, for Jessica
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 22:06:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14840021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangetypeofchemistry/pseuds/astrangetypeofchemistry
Summary: Connor’s in Evan’s Lit class, sits in the back, and just looks generally moody. But his long, dark hair, black-painted nails, and permanent scowl, for some strange reason, excite Evan.





	insert generic and cliche love story

Evan’s like. Seriously regretting actually listening to his therapist’s advice. 

He’s sitting in a tattoo shop, glancing around nervously and waiting for the manager to call him into his office for a job interview. 

He’s hoping he doesn’t get the job.  _Really_  hoping. He doesn’t think he can handle big, meaty guys coming in to get another tattoo on their already-inked-everywhere skin, but his therapist had insisted he at least apply for the job.  _Push his boundaries_ , or whatever other crap his therapist said would help with his anxiety.

Frankly, Evan’s not sure that’s ever going to happen. His anxiety is like.  _Part of him_ , or whatever. He’s pretty sure it’s the reason he never actually got around to hurting himself, despite thinking so much about it. 

So yeah. Taming his anxiety seems like a bad idea, even though it’s the same anxiety that stops him from eating most days, forcing him to stay up and listen to the sound of his stomach rumbling. It’s a wonder his roommate hasn’t like. Complained about him by now. 

He’s pretty lucky in the roommate department, he tells himself. 

The manager opens the door, nodding at him to enter. Evan gathers himself slowly, scared of looking stupid before the interview’s even begun. 

He takes a deep breath before entering the office, willing his hands to not be sweaty. 

Here goes nothing.

* * *

Working as a receptionist is tough, but it’s not as tough as he’d feared it would be. For the most part, people don’t call to schedule appointments; they just walk right in or discuss with an artist about when they should come. Any calls that do come through terrify him to hell, but over time, it becomes easier to deal with. He sits at a desk and deals with people yelling at him about getting their tattoo removed, not liking their tattoo, or wanting to have one because they’re on a time crunch. 

It’s not the best, but at least it makes his therapist and his mom convinced he’s getting better. 

And then, a few months in,  _He_  walks in. 

 _He_  as in Connor Murphy. 

Connor’s in Evan’s Lit class, sits in the back, and just looks generally moody. But his long, dark hair, black-painted nails, and permanent scowl, for some strange reason,  _excite_  Evan. 

It’s funny, because Connor is everything that Evan is afraid of, but Evan still longs to talk to him. 

Connor walks in and immediately heads over to Evan, and Evan tries desperately to calm down his heart before it escapes through his chest and just. Flies away. 

“Is the manager in?” Connor asks, and Evan feels his palms get sweaty at the sound of his voice. It’s rough, and mean, but Evan finds himself liking it. 

“No,” he responds, and then, afraid of being blunt. “I mean, Alana  _was_  in but she just left a while ago because she had an um. Emergency.” 

Evan inhales, realizing slowly that his voice is shaky and his face is read, as if he’s lying about Alana’s whereabouts. His mouth suddenly feels dry and he  _knows_  it’s not really Connor’s business, but all of a sudden he feels the urge to explain that Alana was on a date because her girlfriend Zoe was going away for a few days. 

“Right.” Connor nods, drums his hands against the counter and pushes away, glancing down at Evan frustrated. “Can you let her know I was looking for her?” 

Evan nods, and doesn’t feel his heart start back up until Connor can’t be seen even through the parlor’s windows. 

* * *

 It makes sense that Connor had to come back in. He hadn’t gotten a tattoo his first visit, nor had he accomplished his goal of seeing Alana. 

It’s still a shock to Evan when he sees Connor enter, and he tries to swallow the urge to  _bolt_. 

“Hey,” Connor greets. “Is there an artist free?” 

Speaking is hard. Evan feels the way he used to back in high school when he had to order pizza on the phone because his mom couldn’t be home soon enough and he didn’t have groceries to make something with. It feels the way he’d felt when his therapist in high school had asked how he broke his arm and Evan had tried not to burst out into tears. 

But, “Sorry, there’s still another 15 minute wait,” manages to come out anyway, the same way that the pizza order used to, or how his story about falling out of a tree did. 

Connro nods and turns away, sitting in the waiting area and pulling out his phone. Evan clicks clicks clicks away at his computer, staring at the calendar of appointments and the tabs he’d been looking at before. He resists the urge to look over at Connor, fighting fighting fighting his vision until it stays fixated on his computer with a razor-sharp focus. 

It takes Connor clearing his throat three times before Evan turns away, looking at Connor to find him doing the same. “Don’t you go to this university?” he says, glancing away from Evan briefly as if afraid to be caught staring. 

“Yeah.” And then, nervous about his blunt answer, “We have Lit together.” 

Connor nods just to nod, as if unsure if Evan is telling the truth but accepting it anyway. “Yeah.” 

Evan turns back to his computer, clicking again and refusing to make a fool of himself in front of this  _really cute guy_. 

“It’s nice you were able to find a job so close to campus,” Connor says, and Evan nods dumbly, mumbling out yeah and trying to stop himself from openly asking Connor what he was here for. 

“I work at the flower shop three streets over,” Connor mentions. “It wasn’t easy to get.” 

Evan smiles at Connor, responding with “That sounds good,” and trying to stop his heart from jump, jump, jumping out his chest. 

Connor drops the pretense of a conversation at that, letting them remain in silence until the artist is free.

* * *

So, of course, Alana has to be a great partner and order a bouquet for her girlfriend’s return. And, of course, she has to beg Evan to grab it for her because  _I’m so busy, Evan, I really wish I had the time to go get it_. And, of course, the florist she’s gotten the flowers from was Connor. 

Because fate really wanted Evan to embarrass himself in front of the guy he’s been staring at. 

Connor’s noticed, Evan thinks, because whenever Evan sees him around campus, Connor raises an eyebrow at him. And then Evan blushes and turns away, trying to melt into the ground. 

It’s only been a week since Connor came into the parlor, but Evan’s been hyper-aware of his presence since. 

Connor raises his eyebrow at Evan once he realizes who’s come into the shop, and Evan tries not to blush as he walks carefully over to Connor. 

“I’m here to pick up Alana’s flowers.” 

Connor’s eyebrows furrow at that. “Alana didn’t order any flowers.” 

Evan feels his palms get sweaty and wipes then on his pants, hoping Connor hadn’t seen or  _realized_. “For- for her girlfriend, Zoe? She said she ordered flowers.” 

“I understand who the flowers are  _for_ ,” Connor says, crossing his arms and once again raising an eyebrow at Evan. “What I’m saying is, there  _are_  no flowers.” 

Evan nods, feeling his throat tighten, knowing that he’s going to have to tell Alana that he didn’t get the flowers and he’s  _sorry he messed up he thought he could do this simple thing._  

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Connor continues at Evan’s silence. “She probably just sent you here to send you here.” 

“To- to send me here?” Evan asks, and Connor  _smirks_. It’s such a pretty sight that Evan feels his cheeks flush just looking at it. 

“She thinks I like you and that you could like me back or whatever.” 

“Like you?” Evan says, and then, feeling himself get embarrassed at how  _bad_  that sounds, “I mean, it’s not that I  _wouldn’t_ , or rather  _don’t_ , but I don’t understand why she would, uh, deduce that, considering I never really said anything to her.” 

There’s a smile on Connor’s face as he uncrosses his arms and steps closer to Evan. “Are you free for the next two hours?” 

“Yes?” Evan says, but hating that it sounds like a question he adds, “Yes, I’m free. For longer than just two hours but you asked about two hours and. Yeah.”

He gulps. Because really, how else do you respond to a really cute guy asking you if you’re  _free_. 

“Give me a second,” Connor says, turning to leave. 

Evan’s heart is beating fast, fast, faster, his breath is coming out in spurts. He doesn’t really understand how he’s standing here, alive and well and whole, but he  _is_. 

He thinks his therapist would be proud. 

Connor comes back out with a messenger bag slung across his shoulder. “Come on,” he says. “There’s a theater nearby that’s playing a movie I want to see.” 

“Oh.” 

It’s not that Evan’s disappointed, it’s just that. That’s not really what he expected. Connor, as if understanding this, holds out his hand for Evan. 

“I mean, lets go on a date to the movie theater.” 

Blushing, Evan takes his hand, trying not to let his sweaty palms bother him too much. 

It’s not that hard with Connor thumb rubbing in circles on his knuckles. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr @connormuffin


End file.
